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anghraine · 5 years ago

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pro patria, chapters 57-63

“How is it that a civilian like you sees more combat than any ten soldiers I know? You’re making us look bad, my lady.” I laughed. “That’s simply not possible—you Seraph are the real heroes.” Most of them, anyway.

title: pro patria (57-63/?) stuff that happens: Althea helps Hiroki and the Vigil protect children from the undead, and decides where to go from there.

verse: Ascalonian grudgefic characters/relationships: Althea Fairchild, Crusader Hiroki, Agent Ihan; Tactician Sarrena, other Vigil soldiers, Scholar Josir, Logan Thackeray; Althea & Hiroki, Althea & Ihan chapters: 1-7, 8-14, 15-21, 22-28, 29-35, 36-42, 43-49, 50-56

FIFTY-SEVEN

1 As I waited for Hiroki to buckle on even more armour, I dredged up a sympathetic smile for Josir, who to his credit, didn’t seem to hold any particular grudge. Then I cast a sideways glance at Ihan. “Will the Order of Whispers be working with me in the future?” I asked. “Absolutely,” he said firmly. “You’ll be seeing a great deal more of us in the future. Good luck.” It wasn’t everyone who could sound both menacing and reassuring at once. 2 Silently, I walked over to Hiroki. “Lychcroft Mere is a dangerous place, even without the undead swarming about,” she warned. “I hope you’re ready for it.” Five minutes before, I would have doubted it. Challenged, though, I felt myself again. I smiled at her. “I’m ready for anything.” 3 While she finished managing her armour, I took off for the swamp, not even bothering to preserve my clothes. The lives of children mattered more; besides, there was no preserving anything from this. At the edge of the swamp, Hiroki stepped out; she seemed to have reached it considerably in advance of me, despite the weight of her armour. Vigil training must be something else. “Glad to see you, Advocate,” she told me, “but I wish I had better news. We’ve got a problem.” More than one problem, I’d think. 4 It turned out that the squad supposed to meet us had already been overrun; the area, Hiroki said, was crawling with Risen. Now we had both the children and her soldiers to rescue—and it’d be just the two of us doing it. “Don’t worry, Hiroki,” I told her. “I can handle myself in a fight. If you’re willing, we can rescue your soldiers, and then find those kids.” She looked me up and down, perhaps taking in my total lack of armour and largely decorative sword, but nodded. “Your courage does you credit.” 5 “Vigil soldiers are well-trained, dedicated, and determined to defend Tyria,” she said. “You’d fit right in.” I couldn’t quite see it. Me, a soldier? Me, taking orders from anyone but my queen and her advisors—and from a Charr, of all people? If they wanted to fight the dragons too, fine, but I’d never answer to one. Still, I was flattered. 6 Hiroki went on, “If my squad followed protocol, they’ll have dug in to wait for reinforcements. We’ll need to look for a makeshift bunker.” She drew her sword. “There’s no time to waste. If we want to find those children, and my soldiers, we have to hurry.” “Then let’s go,” I told her, and followed her example, grasping my sceptre in one hand and my sword with the other. “I”ll lead the way.” 7 I’d never fought anything like Risen before. They wandered around, muttering to themselves—they talked?—and rushed heedlessly towards us as soon as we drew near enough to see. Up close, they were even more repugnant than at a distance, with ashen skin drawn tight over swollen veins, and patches of flesh sometimes peeling right off and sloshing in the water. Their eyes were dull and vacant, even as they furiously flung themselves at us. One woman—or thing that had been a woman—sprang at me with her hands curled into claws, teeth bared, yet there was no rage or ferocity in her face, nothing at all. Just before I slashed aether through her, she whispered, “So … tired …” I shuddered. FIFTY-EIGHT 1 The Risen kept appearing, and we kept slaughtering them. There was nothing else to do—and some horrified part of me thought it might be a kindness. In a moment of respite, Hiroki muttered, “The undead don’t gather like this without cause. I can only imagine what horror was behind this.” “You think something’s driving them on?” I asked. “Or someone?” She shook her head. 2 It seemed more a gesture of dismay than a negative. I swallowed. “If there are undead here, the children could be in grave danger,” she said, and her face grew still grimmer. We paused near a tree growing out of rising ground that gradually sloped up into a small, rocky hill. It offered a shelter of sorts, though not one that would repel the undead for long. “It’s hard to believe anyone could survive here for long,” said Hiroki. From around the edge of the hill, a voice whispered, “Crusader Hiroki!” 3 A sylvari poked her head out from behind the rocks. Suspicious of everything, I kept my weapons drawn, even as I looked at her curiously. I’d seen the occasional sylvari in Divinity’s Reach, but not many, and never spoken to one. “Thank the Pale Tree,” she said, her voice light and soft, “you’re a sight for sore eyes!” Hiroki strode over to her, gesturing at me to follow, and after a moment’s hesitation, I decided to trust her judgment. We made our way around the rocks, where we found a few other Vigil members, most noticeably a Norn and a tiny armoured Asura, and a shivering group of children. “It’s good to see you’re still alive, Sarrena,” Hiroki said. 4 The sylvari, Sarrena, quickly caught us up on the sequence of events—the Vigil squad had indeed found children in the swamp, but were attacked and overrun as they tried to help them, and dug in to repel the attack. “It’s not going well, Crusader,” she concluded. “The Risen have pinned us down and inflicted heavy casualties. As the commander of this unit, I take full responsibility.” Hiroki looked sternly at her. “Remember your oath, Sarrena; your soldiers swore to protect the innocent, and that’s exactly what they did. We are the light in the darkness.” 5 “The soldiers in your command died with honour.” Sarrena gave a shaky nod. “What do we do now, Hiroki?” I asked. Hiroki turned her steady gaze on me. “This isn’t over yet, Advocate. Not while there are still people lost in the swamp out there. The mission will go on.” 6 I felt, all at once, disappointed, relieved, nervous, and resolved. Setting all but the last aside, I listened to the plan: we’d hold off the undead, and when the Risen’s lines broke—when, it would definitely be when—we’d lead the children out of the swamp. With the other Vigil holding the east and flanks, Hiroki and I braced ourselves at the center. Behind me, one of the children said, “Please, help me! Don’t let them eat me!” I’d never thought of what Risen ate, or if they did, but this seemed entirely probable. “I won’t let anyone harm you,” I promised, and added, “I swear it by Dwayna!” 7 Across the way, the Norn asked the Asura, “What’s wrong, little one? Scared, or just green?” Sarrena turned a scowl on him; I hadn’t known sylvari could scowl, or at least ever did. “And what, pray tell, is wrong with being green?” “Uh … nothing, ma’am,” mumbled the Norn. “It’s just a turn of phrase.” The Asura sniffed but otherwise ignored all this; it was a human who cried out, “Turn your ‘phrase’ to battle, soldier—here they come!” FIFTY-NINE 1 The battle was, truth to tell, not very interesting. This is not to say that it made for an easy fight. We were heavily outnumbered, and with children huddled behind us, we couldn’t afford the slightest break in our lines. Moreover, we had enemies that never wearied, never relented, never surrendered. I was panting, flinging every scrap of magic I possessed after them. They didn’t see through the clones, thankfully, but I could only cast so many of them before collapsing, and we had wave after wave to fight off. But really, once you’ve seen one Risen, you’ve seen them all. 2 “Incoming!” shouted the Asura. “Incoming! Too many to count!” “You’re a big help—what kind of Asura can’t count?” returned the Norn. Beside me, Hiroki raised her shield yet again. “Ready your weapons, not your sarcasm, you idiots! Incoming!” 3 By the third wave of undead, a soldier cried out, “They’re closing from all sides. We’re done for!” I nearly rolled my eyes; I’d never seen any point in mourning a loss before actually losing—least of all now. “Don’t give up,” cried Sarrena. “Crusader Hiroki will see us through!” Hiroki spared them barely a glance. “Mouths shut, eyes open, soldiers.” 4 Finally, the Risen attack ceased, the few survivors—for a certain value of survivors—ambling away. “The undead are falling back!” I cried. “Their lines are broken—we’ve won!” Hiroki grinned. “This is our chance to get the children out.” Before we could try, however, we found Sarrena barely breathing, multiple slashes down her body oozing a nasty-looking goop. “Leave me,” she mumbled, “I”m not afraid to die.” 5 I froze. I didn’t know her, but— “The Vigil doesn’t leave anyone behind, Sarrena,” snapped Hiroki. “You don’t have my permission to die, do you hear me?” Sarrena gave a weak nod. “I hear you, Crusader. And … thank you.” 6 “We can go out the way we came in,” I told them. “Move fast, keep the children together, and don’t stop unless you absolutely have to.” Belatedly, I realized that I was giving order to Vigil troops, of all people. Hiroki, however, just said, “Agreed. Vigil! Move out!” And that was that. 7 We made our way back without incident, one of the recruits and I scouting out to recover the other children and villagers lost in the swamp. At the sight of a small sylvari garrison in the distance, I could nearly have kissed someone. “Don’t worry about me,” said Sarrena quietly. “Worry about the children.” “Worry about both,” Hiroki replied. She clearly wasn’t one for meaningless martyrdom, which I honestly would not have been surprised at from the likes of the Vigil; I respected her all the more for it. “Let’s go!” SIXTY 1 At the outpost, we found a peculiar mix of trees, arching buildings growing out of the earth, and a towering plant—at least twice my height—spreading out in levels until the top, where it blossomed into winding flowers. Bright, clear water cascaded down the plant, creating a fountain of sorts. Flowery turrets emerged from the ground. Altogether, it made for an odd but reassuring place. Several Vigil members immediately led Sarrena over to the fountain, where she sat on the ledge of one of the leaves—evidently stouter than they looked—and drank down the water. She already looked more stalwart than I would have thought imaginable, and her smile was warm and steady. “Your quick thinking saved those children,” she said. 2 That was the thing about being a hero—getting credit for things you never could have done without other people. “The Vigil could use a soldier like you,” she added. I had no idea what to say to that; I was flattered when people called me a soldier, but I didn’t feel at all like one. More of a … a … I didn’t quite know what to call it. I didn’t belong to any of the groups I worked with, the Seraph or the Vigil or anyone. I'd always been a lone agent who sometimes worked with other organizations, but never quite belonged. Maybe that was why I’d become so dissatisfied, I thought; I was lonely. 3 “Are you all right?” I asked Sarrena, distracting myself from my own concerns. “Will you … regrow?” “What?” she said, then laughed. “Oh, my wounds—yes, I’ll heal, thank you. We sylvari are a hardy race, even if we don’t look it.” I glanced around at their garden of an outpost; they really didn’t look it, but they must be, to hold this place. “How did you get involved with the Vigil?” 4 “From awakening,” she told me, “the sylvari know we must fight the dragons. The Vigil gives me that opportunity. I’m honoured to be here.” I absorbed this, trying to imagine such a life—directed towards such a task from … well, however sylvari came into the world. Being a noble wasn’t quite the same. “Awakening?” I said. “Is that the sylvari version of being born?” 5 She beamed at me. “Yes, exactly! We step, fully-formed, from the Pale Tree. How are you humans made?” I coughed. “Uh, let’s discuss this some other time, Sarrena. Get some rest.” 6 I didn’t quite flee, but some things I was definitely not going to discuss with a stranger from a species I’d scarcely encountered and didn’t understand. Or with anyone, really. I retreated to one of the earthen buildings, where one of the children was crouched. She looked up at me as I ducked inside, her fearful expression melting into a relieved smile. “You’re my very brand new hero!” she said. Then her smile faded. “I used to like the Seraph, but after I saw that man with the undead—I don’t like them anymore!” 7 Wait, what? A Seraph with the undead? How—why— “Whoa there, little one,” I said, kneeling beside her. “What Seraph?” “The bad man in the swamp,” said the little girl. “He was wearing Seraph armour, and muttering to himself, and he was really scary.” SIXTY-ONE 1 “I think the undead came to talk to him,” she added. Came to—what? “Did you recognize this Seraph?” I asked urgently, but at her alarmed look, forced my voice back to its usual even tones. “Was he alive, like me, or was he like the Risen?” “Oh, he was alive,” she assured me, her eyes wide. “The undead didn’t attack him, either. They just followed him around.” 2 She seemed to know no more than that—which was more than enough to disturb me. A Seraph, working with the undead? This was beyond even Tervelan. Well, maybe not, but damn near the same thing. I led the child out to the Vigil, to be guided back home, and stood at the edge of the swamp, kicking over some nasty plants the garrison’s leader had described as products of the Risen’s influence. A Seraph. Logan had to hear about this. 3 Methodically, I washed my sword off in the swamp, watching the smears of undead flesh slide off into the water. Speaking of things the Althea of last year couldn’t have imagined me doing! The clatter of armour alerted me to a Vigil member’s presence before I turned and saw Hiroki. “Without you, Advocate,” she said, “my soldiers and those children would have been lost.” Perhaps she’d thought my only duty was overseeing the mission on Jennah’s behalf; I was her advocate, after all, not her captain. If so, then yes, I’d gone beyond that—but even back in the palace, I’d understood that Jennah expected more than simply making the decision. I didn’t mind; if anything, I felt honoured to serve Kryta, and all the more in the company of the Vigil. 4 “It was my honour to fight with the Vigil,” I said frankly, and met her steady blue eyes. Had she once felt the same way? She’d fought for Ebonhawke, as I’d always dreamed of doing, and apparently she still went out of her way to help Kryta—yet here she stood, a crusader in the armour of a Charr's army; something must have diverted her path from our people’s. I said, “Tell me how you came to join the Order.” “I was raised in Kryta,” she replied, and I nearly twitched, “but I joined the Ebon Vanguard hoping to do some good.” Perfectly understandable. “I joined the Vigil,” she went on, “when I realized that the dragons are a bigger threat than Charr.” 5 There, my understanding came to an abrupt halt. “But you don’t fight for Kryta and Ascalon any more,” I said, puzzled. “You take orders from Charr now. How do you justify that?” Hiroki didn’t seem insulted, just thoughtful, even sympathetic. “The battlefield changes how we see the world,” she told me. “Honourable Charr, traitorous humans—in the end, what matters most is that Tyria survives.” 6 Yes, but— “Makes sense to me,” I lied. Tyria had always survived, but we had duties to our people, to what remained of our homeland, and to the one so many of us now called home. Hiroki, evidently, felt differently. I didn’t press her further, just continued, “Take care, Hiroki. I’ll see you again soon.” “You will,” she assured me. 7 I left Lychcroft Mere without looking back, and headed to Salma District—not only my home, but where I was to meet the order representatives again. I went to my manor first, however, soaked as I was in swamp water, and stinking of rotten plants and undead. As I passed by, an old soldier who’d been posted in Salma for years gave me a quizzical look and said, “How is it that a civilian like you sees more combat than any ten soldiers I know? You’re making us look bad, my lady.” I laughed. “That’s simply not possible—you Seraph are the real heroes.” Most of them, anyway. SIXTY-TWO 1 I found the three representatives with Logan, near some trees halfway through the district. The former were bickering again, the latter glancing tiredly away. At the sight of me, he gave a relieved smile, and gestured for me to join them. “We need to deal the undead a decisive blow,” Hiroki was saying. Ihan shook his head. “There’s an intelligence to their movements; we need to discover the root of the problem—not just follow them from fight to fight.” “At the cost of lives?” she burst out. 2 Logan cleared his throat. “Althea,” he said, “the representatives have reported your success. Well done.” “Thank you, Logan,” I replied. “I’m glad we saved the children, but the undead are still a problem.” Josir, who had remained quiet through what I’d heard of the debate, coughed. “I’m told that the children saw a Seraph soldier in the swamp—and their stories are quite appalling; they were as frightened of him as the undead.” 3 “If this was that soldier,” Josir went on, “the children say he’s become violent and incoherent. They also say that the undead weren’t attacking him.” I nearly shivered. Why would they accept the living among them? And what living being could tolerate it? “There aren’t any Seraph outposts in Lychcroft Mere,” I said, and glanced over at Logan. “What’s a lone soldier doing out there?” 4 He looked thoughtful. After a few seconds, he said, “According to Seraph reports, a corporal named Kellach didn’t report for duty. I’d assumed he was away without leave in Lion’s Arch, but maybe there’s more to it.” “This Kellach could be under Zhaitan’s influence,” I said, eager for a lead. “Could he be inciting the Risen, and making them more aggressive? Maybe he’s a necromancer?” “We don’t have time for theories, Advocate,” Hiroki said shortly. 5 Vigil scouts, it transpired, had found more undead approaching a small town called Triskell Quay; Zhaitan’s corruption was spreading further into Kessex Hills. “If so,” said Ihan, “then Triskell Quay is just a symptom. Whatever’s drawing the undead inland will continue to do so even if we save the town. We should investigate what happened to Kellach—he may be the key to these attacks. Until we know what’s going on, we’re just plugging leaks.” It was a hard logic, but logic all the same. I couldn’t disagree. 6 Hiroki looked even more furious. “You want to go on a wild goose chase, Ihan? Fine. But don’t risk Triskell Quay—we need soldiers to defend the town, or people will die.” I bit my lip, and turned my eyes back to Logan. He was glancing between Hiroki and Ihan, but his face revealed nothing. “A few will die now,” argued Ihan, “but we’d be saving many in the long run.” 7 In his dryest voice, Logan said, “It’s a good thing that the decision’s not up to you.” He turned back to me. “Advocate, it’s in your hands.” Josir turned out to have no particular plan beyond searching the Priory archives for information, though he wished me good luck, while Hiroki’s plan was no different than the one back in Lychcroft Mere. I took a deep breath, then walked over to Ihan. He said abruptly, “We need your decision. Do you choose to go with the Vigil, or to go with the Order of Whispers?” SIXTY-THREE 1 I hated leaving an entire town to the undead, but I knew that we’d see many more towns devastated by them if we didn’t find out what was going on. Still, I eyed Ihan with some suspicion. “Is it typical strategy for the Order of Whispers to sneak around, working beneath the surface?” I half-expected some excuse, but he simply inclined his head. “It is,” he said. “No use charging into battle if you don’t know what you’re up against. We’ll need cunning to defeat the dragons.” 2 That seemed, unfortunately, quite true. Hiroki and Sarrena and I had nearly walked into our deaths in Lychcroft Mere. If we’d had better information, Hiroki’s other soldiers might still be alive. Really, it was hard to think of a situation that wouldn’t have been improved by greater knowledge of its circumstances, or that hadn't benefited from greater knowledge. Although I never backed down from fights, I didn’t go looking for them; I did happily set off after clues and leads. I wasn’t happy about it this time, but—well. “I’m ready to decide,” I said. 3 “Do you go with the Order of Whispers?” asked Ihan. I gave a firm nod. “Yes. We need to know where that soldier’s headed.” “Excellent choice, Advocate,” he said, seeming neither surprised nor complacent. “You’ll be very pleased with your decision.” I tried not to think of Triskell Quay. 4 “I hope so.” I’d been there before. When I was making my map of Kessex Hills, I’d poked into Triskell Quay's crevices, talked to the villagers. They’d been pleasant, grateful for the little services I performed in exchange, friendly to strangers in general. I never imagined they might be enduring a siege of undead. I certainly wouldn't have imagined that I'd leave them to their fate. “I’ll see you there,” I told him. 5 Hiroki remained firm in her priorities; there were few situations, she said, that a good broadsword couldn’t handle. I took my leave with some regret; I liked her a great deal, but I didn’t agree at all. Logan might. But when I consulted him, he only replied, “Queen Jennah said you’d be able to soothe their ruffled feathers.” His mouth gave a little quirk. “For your sake, I hope she’s right.” I realized that I had no idea how Queen Jennah received disappointments, least of all weighty ones—something that the Advocate of the Crown really should know. 6 “So do I,” I said. Regardless, it was gratifying to know as much as I did: that this confidence in my abilities came not only from Anise’s and Logan’s influences, but from the queen herself. “Ihan and I won’t need troops,” I told Logan. “Will you be sending some to Triskell Quay?” “I already have,” he said. Of course—I didn’t need to tell him his job. “Good.” 7 With that, I strode back towards the others. They no longer seemed to be arguing, though Hiroki looked unhappy. “I’m glad you decided so quickly,” she said, after a pause. “Good luck, and no hard feelings.” I nodded awkwardly. Ihan, gracious in victory, added, “You chose with your heart, Advocate. That’s all anyone can ask.”

#ascalonian grudgeblog #anghraine's gaming #anghraine's fic #ascalonian grudgefic #althea fairchild #crusader hiroki #agent ihan #tactician sarrena #scholar josir #logan thackeray #guild wars 2 #pro patria

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whiskeyworen · 6 years ago

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In a secluded part of the Grove, Sonnya met with the renegade Sylvari armorsmith. She had to meet them secretly because this one in particular had been a Nightmare courtier...until she had been captured and punished to public service with the Wardens. There were only a few minutes a day that this smith was NOT attended by Warden ‘keepers’...but thanks to the connections she’d cultivated privately, Sonnya had gained access to her for these few minutes. “So you’re the one?” The smith asked, reclining after a long day. “My keepers mentioned I’d have an Asuran visitor.” She cast a leery eye at the heavily armored guardian, noting the holographic wings. “I don’t know how you managed to keep a low profile, with things like THAT on your back.” “They turn off. And I’m very short.” Sonnya deflected without thinking, crossing her arms. Unconsciously, her armored fingers idly scratched at the back of her forearms. The quiet skriitch of metal was barely audible, but for Sonnya, it felt WAY too loud. She let her arms drop, to keep from itching. “You’re the one I require items from.” “Indulge me, Asura.” The smith smiled slowly, knowingly. Her eyes darted from Sonnya’s face to her forearms, and back to her face. “...yes, I think I can see it. You’d be a Noon bloom if you were one of us. Thicker limbs. The heavy armor. Those weapons you wear.” She chuckled darkly. “Oh...and the scars.” Ice slid down Sonnya’s spine and through her veins. She froze for an instant, eyes widening for a moment. How did she know?! There’s no way she!... It took her a moment to regain her composure, dissemble her emotions and hide them. “...Scars? Everyone has scars. Everyone that fights, anyway.” The smith’s smile broadened. “Oh, those aren’t the scars I’m talking about. One acquainted with the Nightmare can easily recognize those who have touched the...softer side of pain. But, as I see I’m making you uncomfortable, I won’t ask you how or why.” She gave Sonnya a heavy-lidded stare. “Though I am simply dying to know. Perhaps if you visit me again, you’ll grant me that? As a reward for services rendered?” In spite of herself, Sonnya found her cheeks reddening at the double entendre. Some dark part of her mind whispered There are many ways for services to be rendered. And she probably knows a few. She pushed that voice away, and cleared her throat. “You’re a sylvari armorsmith. You know how to...grow... sylvari-styled armor.” “Indeed.” “I want gauntlets.” The sylvari raised an eyebrow made of fine thorns. “...you do realize sylvari armor connects to our bodies? It’s a living thing that grows from us, and draws from us. It’s why only we can wear it.” “Don’t bullshit me, twig.” Sonnya gave her a withering smile. “You and I both know the Nightmare court armor sprouts don’t do that. They live on their own. For some reason, your beloved Court grew an armor that other races can wear. And I want some gauntlets.” That made the smith quirk a smile. “Hmm... I didn’t think many people knew that. The Court has, in the past, considered inducting non-sylvari. While they would have no connection to the Dream, or the Nightmare... the Nightmare only needs help in growing. For that, all that’s needed is to inflict upon Dreamers.” She giggled cruelly. “Don’t need to be connected to the Dream for THAT. Just need to hurt some dumb empty-headed sprouts. Any moron can do that. So yes... our armour can be worn by non-sylvari.” “I know. Which is why I want to purchase a set of gauntlet...seed...things.” Sonnya told her, stumbling over the proper verbage. “It will take a few days to mould them.” The sylvari sighed tiredly. “I will have to devote what little private time I have to creating them. The Wardens guard me heavily.” This time it was Sonnya’s turn to smile ominously. “Oh, don’t worry about that. You’ll get free time. I’ll...talk to some people. You just start working on them. We’ll talk about payment when I come to pick them up.” ******* Four days later, Sonnya stepped through the gate to Rata Sum, and ran her fingers over the backs of her new gauntlets. The organic matter that made up the new gloves felt soft, almost silken to the touch, so long as that touch was light. There was a gentle give to them, a mobility that no suit of forged armor could ever manage. But she knew that if struck hard, the leaves that made up the plate would harden in an instant to reflect the attack. She smiled to herself, admiring how well they’d integrated to the powered systems of her suit; As the gloves grew to their proper shape, they’d absorbed and incorporated the basic circuit weave she’d used, just like the smith said. They were just like her powered armor suit gauntlets...but they were plants! Or rather, plants laced with synthetic components. Idly, she made a fist, and, with a thought, flexed. On the back of the forearm and on the wrist were patches of thorns. At her command, they suddenly grew, becoming combat thorns. Nasty little surprise for anyone that got into backhand range. There was a tradeoff though. The smith had told her the truth of the gauntlets, but if anything it had increased her want of them. Her arms tingled and ached where the thorns -- the ones on the inside -- scratched and tickled her bare skin. The smith’s words came back to her, feeling that pain. Our Court garb comes with a cost, Asura. Yes, it doesn’t grow into you, and through you, like normal Sylvari gear would try to. Sylvari plant armor meshes completely with its host, to be grown and changed at will once the seeds are implanted in our flesh. But Nightmare Court... the seeds are self-contained, but they still require to feed. Every plant must be watered, to flourish. Even thorns. For as long as you wear them, the thorns on the inner-lining will score your flesh, drawing blood and sweat as fuel. They will be entirely loyal to you, never to grow upon another. But they need your PAIN to live. If you remove them, the seeds will sleep and the leaves will wilt, until you don them again. They will smell your blood when you put them on, and will respond accordingly. The gauntlets will never take more than they need, never enough to weaken you. But you will always feel them, quietly. Every time you move, you will feel the pinprick. The caress of the Thorn. The gentle sting of pain. And they will thank you for it with their protection. Take care of them, and they will take care of you. If you need anything more... you know where to find me. Sonnya curled her wrist, feeling the armor sliding around her fingers. It was cool, and soft, but it felt strong. So very strong. Oh, she could feel the thorns...but that was such a little thing. She could get used to it. ---------- I couldn’t resist. The other day I’d found that sylvari up top, who tries to predict what time of Day you’d be from as a sylvari, and she mentioned the scars. As I was using Sonnya at the time, it seemed prophetic, so I started working on this story. Then I got a Tyrian Voucher from a BLC chest, and grabbed the Nightmare gauntlets, and the rest of it fell into place. How Nightmare court gear operates versus how Sylvari cultural gear works is just my personal idea. Works in my mental headcanon universe. So that’s what I went with. If it doesn’t match your headcanon... well, sorry about that. It’s just how I explain how NC gear can fit on ANY race, while cultural gear only works on specified race. Especially in regards to Sylvari organic crap. LoL.

#gw2 fanfiction #gw2 #Sonnya Danae #Guild wars 2 #Asura Firebrand #Asura #Nightmare Court

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